The Thorn and the Sting
by Pastorella
Summary: Rose's time at Hogwarts, with emphasis on her relationship with Scorpius Malfoy
1. Home at Last

Professor Flitwick, deputy headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, rolled out the scroll of names with all the pomp the Sorting Ceremony deserved.

'Anderson, Mark', he squeaked, and a tall, dark boy with big ears and green eyes perched upon the stool. "Hufflepuff", the hat announced

A few names Rose didn't recognise were sorted into houses, though one went to Gryffindor. This just made her all the more nervous, as both her mother and father had been Gryffindors, and she rather felt that it was expected of her.

'Chang-Lee, Isabel', was a name Rose was sure she knew. As Isabel came forward, and was sorted into Ravenclaw, Rose made a mental note to ask her about her parents if they ever met.

'Dennison, Ben, became a Hufflepuff, and Rose zoned out again for a short while, but at 'Malfoy, Scorpius', she was pulled swiftly back to reality. This was the boy her father had mentioned at the station. Perhaps he recognised her too, because she couldn't help notice that he was making very direct eye contact. "Slytherin" cried the hat, and he ran off, Rose lost sight of him.

'Neilson, Angela', became a Ravenclaw, as did 'Pearce, Ivy', but 'Robinson, Geoffrey', was a Gryffindor.

Finally, 'Weasley, Rose'. She crept up to the stool, crossed her fingers, and closed her eyes as Flitwick levitated the hat onto her head.

The hat deliberated for some time. 'Hmm... Yes... Hmm. Much like your mother... Hmm... "Ravenclaw!"' cried the hat. She could see cousin Fred and Albus, family friend, cheering wildly, but Lorcan and Lysander on the Ravenclaw table were cheering all the louder. Sitting down next to Lysander, the shock began to sink in. What would mother say? She would send an owl that very evening. Opposite her sat Isabel, an Asian girl with a dark bob, and remembering her earlier thoughts, she mentioned her parents to the girl.

'Oh, of course.' she giggled. 'Our parents were school friends here. Aren't your mum and dad pretty famous?'

We talked for a short while, before Lorcan and Lysander butted in. 'Welcome to Ravenclaw house!' said Lysander, ever the more confident of the two twins. They both had long, blonde hair which was kept back in a ponytail, and glimmering pale blue eyes. 'Hang on!' exclaimed Lorcan 'Best introduce ourselves first!'

'So sorry, where did my manners go. Of course, Rose here, we know you, but, Isabel, isn't it?' She nodded shyly 'Well, I'm Lysander Xenophilius Scamander, at your service, and this is my brother-' 'Lorcan Newt Scamander, I'm quite capable of introducing myself thank you.' he announced in mock fury. 'Anyway,' continued Lysander 'we're in fourth year, and we, like you, are Ravenclaws.' 'The intelligent eccentrics!' interjected Lorcan. Isabel giggled again.

The tinkling I spoon in goblet was heard, and the witch in the centre of the teachers' table stood up. She wore lilac robes and a tall, white hat. 'Do excuse me for delaying what promises to be a delicious meal' she chuckled 'but I simply wanted to welcome you to, or back to, the school, and to encourage you to welcome our new students!' Her voice was friendly, but with an edge of authority, and a slight Irish twinkle.

Then, the feast appeared. Golden platters, piled high with buttered peas, gravy jugs of all shapes and sizes, roast fowl of every description and crisp, sun-coloured roast potatoes. Rose tucked in, greedily. Her mother was always working, and even with the help of magical pots and pans (inherited from Granny Molly), her father was a basic cook, and they never had food like this at home. As she sliced off a fine slither of the honey-glazed ham, Lorcan began introducing her to each of the teachers. 'You see that witch there? In the lavender hat?' 'Mm-hmbbll' said Rose, mouth already filled with ham and potatoes. The woman Lorcan had indicated was tall and gaunt, but friendly looking, with green eyes which smiled just as fully as her mouth. 'Professor Lavendon, headmistress. Best since Dumbledore, they say, been here nearly five years. Next to her', he pointed at the next teacher along 'Professor Rellagon, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Strict, Slytherin, not too fond of first years, I'd warn you, but stay on the right side of him and he's one of the best in the school. On her other side, Flitwick. Charms. Been here donkey's years, along with Professor Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures. They say he's half giant. Next... Professor Longbottom, Herbology, you won't have him til second year. Professor Finchley, Quidditch, great teacher, really she is. Professor Montgomery, Potions, very intelligent, not too sociable.'. He paused a minute, and had a swig of pumpkin juice. 'Who's that one, on the end, the ghost?' Asked Rose. Lorcan laughed, and a spat out a splash of pumpkin juice, 'Binns. Been here since before he died, died in the staff room of this very school, apparently, but just got up, and carried on teaching, leaving his body in an armchair.'

Once everyone had eaten well, and Rose had both Lorcan and Lysander's eloquent opinions and anecdotes about every one of her teachers, the food disappeared from the golden platters, and was rapidly replaced by dessert. Piles of eclairs, doughnuts and fresh fruit, platters of jelly, huge great tarts and pies, ice cream in every flavour. Rose, though nearly full, managed to squeeze in a slice of treacle tart, and a good portion of strawberries, with vanilla ice cream.

'Now', Professor Lavendon announced 'we shall sing the school song, there really isn't a tune, but a funeral march is perhaps best avoided'. Here she seemed to wink at cousin Fred. She chuckled, and with a flick of her wand, she conjure a banner above her head, and, in an old-fashioned typewriter font, the following words flashed across it:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something, please.

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees.

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff.

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot.

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.


	2. A Bride

Rose was so confused by the words, though she was sure she'd heard them before, and the various tunes flowing in from all directions, that she barely sung along, though she resolved to do better next year. Finally, when the song was over, Rose was herded to her common room by an authoritarian looking prefect to introduced himself as Timothy. At the door, a small crowd had already gathered. Timothy barged his way through, and knocked the brass knocker. A creaking voice said

'I have pages but yet am no book,

And a groom, yet I am no horse,

What am I?'

'Hmm... Any ideas?' Tim asked the first years. 'A newspaper?' asked Angela Neilson. The knocker chuckled, but the door stayed closed. 'A bride?' suggested Rose, sheepishly, and the door creaked, squeaked and slowly opened 'Thanks', Tim laughed, and he strolled in.

The dormitory list was pinned to the bulletin board, and Rose joined the queue to read it. The dorms were of five, and Rose was with Angela, Isabel, another two girls she didn't know called Verity Jones and Felicity Brownlee. Angela had blonde plaits and a friendly, slightly freckled face, Verity was short, and boyish, with spiked, mousy brown hair and fizzing green eyes, while Felicity's round face was framed with long, wavy black locks. As the five traipsed up to their dormitory, Rose felt already that she would like the other four.

Sitting hunched up in bed, Rose wrote to her mother and father, telling them all her news, before folding up the letter, screwing the top back on her green ink, and lying down to sleep.

'Wake up!' Rose's quilt was being shaken off, and through her sleep-filled eyes, she caught a glimpse of emerald eyes. 'I'm Verity by the way, and you're going to make us late if you keep lazing about.' She smiled cheekily and threw the patched quilt on the floor next to the four poster bed. Rose balled herself up, and tried to cocoon herself in the sheets, but Verity just giggled and rolled her out of bed.

'Come on!'

'Alright, alright!' Rose laughed, finally getting up and laying the quilt back over her unmade bed. As soon as she was dressed, Rose stumbled, still half a sleep, up to the Owlery, and sent the letter to her parents, with her little Screech Owl, Lakshmi. Their very first lesson was Charms, so after packing up their books and eating a hearty breakfast, the five girls headed to Flitwick's room. The first lesson was about levitation charms, and Rose found that, even among Ravenclaws, she had a special talent for charms, floating her feather on the very first try. Verity, too, though badly behaved, proved to be a bright spark as the lessons commenced, though it was clear that, like her mother, Rose was the most naturally gifted of the class.

The other lessons of the week, though challenging, were never so enjoyable as those with Flitwick, though the real highlight of the week was when she received post. On the morning of her third day, Lakshmi fluttered down, and, just as she was about to lay a scoop of diced mango onto it, plonked herself ceremonially upon Rose's plate. In her sharp beak were two envelopes, one in yellow parchment, addressed in her mother's neat hand, and the other in a white envelope, scrawled with purple ink. She took them both, shooed Lakshmi off and laid down the mango. She opened the second envelope, and out fell a letter, written in the same purple ink, from cousin Victoire. Rose's cousins, Victoire and Louis, both went to Beuxbaton, a French wizarding school, and on their last meeting they had agreed to write often. The letter included various details about Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill, and life in France, as well as information about Beuxbaton, and questions about Rose's first few days at Hogwarts. She folded the letter up small, and tucked it into the pocket of her robes. Verity, looking up from her plate of eggs and bacon, pointed at the remaining envelope and asked 'That one from your Ma and Pa?'

'I think so.' Rose replied, peeling it open.

'What's it say then?', Verity peered over her shoulder.

'Dear Rose', she read, loudly.

'Not so noisy!'

In a slightly hushed tone, Verity continued, 'We hope this finds you well, and settled in at school. As for the news in your letter, we are both so proud, and you mustn't think for a second we would rather you were anything but a Ravenclaw. Your father has been under a lot of pressure at work, as it seems that an old shop owner, by the name of Borgin, has died, and many of his belongings, mostly dark magical objects, have been sold to rather irresponsible purchasers, so the Aurors have had a lot of raids, trying to locate and destroy these objects, many very dangerous. You will be pleased to know Hugo and Albus send their love, and that Hugo has as yet failed to smash anything with a misfiring spell in your absence.

All are safe and well, already looking forward to having you back for Christmas, all my love, Mum x', Verity looked puzzled.'I thought you said they'd be mad?'

'Never mind!' laughed Rose, a great weight off her mind.

Though her father had always warned her against Slytherins, despite only having a few classes with them, she really couldn't see the problem. They were ambitious, yes, and not the most selfless of people, but certainly nice, even Scorpius seemed perfectly civil, though something of a joker. Therefore, she was not as aggrieved as many of her classmates to hear that when flying lessons started, the two houses would be taking them together. Her parents had taken flying lessons with the Slytherins, she knew, and her mother had detested it, though perhaps this was because, even now, she could barely recount the rules of Quidditch, or fly a broom with any accuracy or speed.

The first flying lesson was on a bright, Tuesday morning, and the two classes lined up obediently, awaiting instructions from Professor Finchley. When the teacher arrived, she was followed by around fifty broomsticks, which bobbed through the air, and landed neatly, one at each pupil's feet.

'Now', cried Finchley, in a domineering but not harsh voice. 'all I need you to do is place your hand over the broom, and shout up!' The broom, rather fancier than the others, at her feet, rose sharply, and she caught it ably in her left hand. Verity's broom, Rose noted, flew to her hand at the first asking, but hers took a while longer, and even then only wobbled nervously to around knee height, at which point she bent to grab it. Scorpius, too, had Verity's immediacy to his commanding, and stood, broom in hand, for some time before further instructions were given. 'Next, mount your brooms. On my whistle, we will all take off .' Rose swung her leg over the broom, and clutched the handle for dear life. '3...2...1!'. The sharp squeak of the whistle hit the air, and Verity was off like a shot. Again Scorpius followed quickly, but hung in mid air, as though waiting for something. The others were soon up, but Rose simply stood, broom between her legs, trying and trying to get off the ground. Eventually, she took off, but didn't have the confidence to go with any speed, and ambled through the air, swerving this way and that. She saw a broom fly down towards her, and assumed it was Professor Finchley, come to help. Only, it wasn't Finchley. Hovering beside her, confident and calm, was Scorpius.

'I reckon the brooms sense fear. They can tell you're nervous. Just look over there, enjoy the view, don't think too hard.', he advised, candidly. Staring across the black lake towards the forest, Rose suddenly felt her broom straighten up, she was less scared now, less wobbly.

'There it is, what did I tell you? Now, come on, race ya.' Rose was beaten catastrophically, but Verity gave Scorpius a run for his money, before they were whistled back to the ground for the end of the lesson.

When Finchley dismissed the class, Scorpius and his two rather larger, slower, less charismatic friends, hung back awaiting Verity and Rose. As the pair approached them, their reason for lagging behind became clear.

'Hey, Jones, Weasley, check this!' Scorpius withdrew something from his pocket, what looked like a glass model spider. But, as he placed it on his palm, it became clear that it was something far more sinister. It crawled up Malfoy's arm, down his back and to his feet. It scuttled momentarily out if sight, and then suddenly the shorter of the two thuggish boys screamed an uncharacteristically high scream, and the spider, now tinted with blood, crawled out the sleeve of his robe.

'Where did you get that?' Verity asked, trying to cover her fascination with feigned disapproval, as Malfoy replaced the spider in his pocket.

'My grandfather gave it to me, used to belong to an old friend of his, but when he kicked the bucket, his house was left to crumble, and my Grandad didn't want to waste all the cool stuff he had.'

'Is it safe?' asked Rose, anxiously.

'Well, it won't move while its in the dark, and Grandad said its never yet been known to kill anyone. So... I'm sure it's fine.'

Finchley, who had been repairing a few slightly mangled brooms, turned to leave, and hurried the five children away, but as the short boy moved off, the sleeve of his robes blew up, and Rose saw, on his forearm, a small black cut, shaped like a tiny pair of fangs.


	3. Dark Magic

'Verity', whispered Rose as they lay in bed that night 'do you remember, what my mum said in her letter, about my dad's work?'

'Vaguely.' Verity yawned.

'Well, you know, that old shopkeeper? You don't think he could be Malfoy's grandad's friend? You wouldn't think, that spider of Malfoy's is... Dark magic?'

Verity rolled over and looked directly at her. 'No! It's just a joke thing, you worry too much!'. She turned back over, and within minutes was snoring loudly.

Despite Verity's reassurance, Rose was on edge that whole week, just waiting for bad news. Then, suddenly, a few weeks after that first flying lesson, it came. A Slytherin boy, often to be seen with Malfoy, and with whom Malfoy shared a dormitory, disappeared from lessons, to be found, only with special permission from Nurse Jay, behind a screen in the Hospital Wing. Verity insisted that it was flu, or a broken limb, or some similar mild ailment, and though not entirely satisfied, Malfoy's silence left Rose with no chance of a better explanation.

Verity, as a muggle born, was a great lover of football, but had never heard of Quidditch. The first match of the year was between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and Verity decided both she and Rose were to attend, leaving Rose in the tricky position of having to explain the rules.

'My brother watches it. It's on brooms, and there's more than one ball, though I don't know how many. Just cheer for Ravenclaw.'

In the first few minutes of the game, the pair cheered themselves hoarse, despite being, to all intensive purposes, unable to tell if their team had scored, except by the loud cheers of their fellow spectators. It didn't take Verity long to guess the rules however and soon she was teaching them to Rose. Ravenclaw was winning, then Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw again. The two girls were on the edge of their seats

The score evened out, and Rose had just settled down to passively enjoy the game when a winged, golden ball, the Snitch, came whizzing past her face, and after it a player in blue and silver, his Hufflepuff opponent close behind. Rose leaned forward, right out of her seat to watch the chase, but just as the Snitch left her field of vision, and the two seekers sped off, a big, black bludger hurtled after the racing players.

When Rose came to, not knowing how long she'd been out, she was in the Hospital Wing, and could hear loud voices.

'Nothing I have works headmistress. I've never seen marks like these, and the boy can barely talk, let alone attend lessons!'

'May I at least see the child?'

Reluctantly, Nurse Jay wheeled away the screen, and the headmistress gasped. Rose sat up in bed, craning to see. Face down, and covered in tiny, black scab marks, tracing lines across his back, was the missing Slytherin boy.

'I don't believe you. You were seeing things. I'm sure of it.' Verity said, determined to convince herself as much as Rose.

'I wasn't! Little black cuts, all over him, in right the way round his back, and his legs, even the palms of his hands.'

'A rash! It was just a rash.'

'Nurse Jay said she'd never seen anything like it. Besides, they were just like the mark the other boy had on his wrist.'

'Perhaps...' Verity pulled the curtains round her bed, closing the conversation.

Despite the advent of November, and the golden leaves edging the Forest, the weather was unseasonably warm, and Rose and Verity were sitting outside by the Lake, writing their Transfiguration essays. A splash of water dropped on to Rose's parchment, and she looked up from her work. Just along the edge of the Lake, wand out, Scorpius was trying to enchant stones to skim across the water. He was alone, but looked to be focused on his task. As Rose watched, one charmed pebble jumped nearly halfway across, before sinking into the black depths.

Rose made a snap decision. 'Scorpius!' she beckoned.

He turned to look at her, and, after a moments thought, walked over to where the two girls sat.

'Can I help?'

Rose decided to cut to the chase. 'I saw what happened to that boy, while I was in the Hospital Wing.'

Malfoy turned the very colour of the damp parchment. He muttered something inaudible.

'Malfoy, I want answers.' He turned to run, but Verity, pin-sharp, hit him with a Leg-Locker jinx. He rolled over, flailing on the ground.

Suddenly ruthless, Verity put away her wand and said flatly 'You're not going until you've told us all you know about that spider. I don't think it's dangerous, but if it really did hurt that boy, maybe Rose is right.'

Impressed, but just slightly scared, Rose smiled sheepishly at Verity.

'Have you ever, ever, heard the name Borgin?'

'Mm-hm', the boy muttered, non-committal. There was a pause.

'Look, we just think you should hand that spider in.'

'To Lavendon?' Asked Malfoy, hiding his fear behind derision.

'No. To the Aurors. We reckon its dark magic.'

Malfoy tried to fake a laugh, but all that came out was a whimper, as if in pain.

'It's not! It's just a prank.'

'That boy's not covered in scars, in the Hospital Wing, because of a prank. There's something wrong.'

Malfoy cried out, then went cold. Rose screamed.

Malfoy was heavier than his slight frame would suggest, and dragging him back to the castle proved a difficult task. By the time Rose and Verity finally lowered him into a bed in the Hospital Wing, the sun was setting above the Forbidden Forest. Nurse Jay looked horrified. She rolled Malfoy over, pulling up his robes. As they had suspected, a trail of fang marks swirled across his pale skin.

'Girls', Nurse Jay began, 'if you know anything about this, now is the time to tell me.'


End file.
